


Dirty Deeds in Downing Street

by janto321 (FaceofMer)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Greg Lestrade, Couch Sex, Formalwear, M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Police Uniforms, Semi-Public Sex, Top Mycroft Holmes, Tuxedos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-19
Updated: 2019-02-19
Packaged: 2019-10-31 16:55:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17853521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FaceofMer/pseuds/janto321
Summary: Seems Greg in his formal uniform is a bit too tempting a treat for Mycroft





	Dirty Deeds in Downing Street

Greg smoothed the front of his tunic and looked at himself in the mirror. He rarely had occasion to wear his formal police uniform, but an event (party didn’t seem like the right term) at 10 Downing Street certainly called for it. Greg was looking forward to seeing Mycroft in a tuxedo.

And he’d be on Mycroft’s arm officially this evening as they’d made their relationship public just a few weeks before. He still delighted in the slight blush Mycroft had when Greg called him his boyfriend.

Mycroft politely knocked on the door. Greg smiled and turned, calling for him to enter. His smile grew wider as he saw Mycroft’s eyes widen almost imperceptibly as he took in the view. Mycroft was certainly no slouch himself, looking the peak of British respectability.

Greg walked over to Mycroft and kissed his cheek. “Ready to go, or should we stay in?”

Mycroft rolled his eyes. “We do need to at least put in an appearance.”

Greg took his arm. “Well good thing I’m with the best looking man in the place.”

“We haven’t even left the house,” grumbled Mycroft.

“My statement still stands.”

Mycroft glanced heavenward and led the way downstairs. Greg grabbed his cap on the way out the door and they soon settled into the car.

In truth, Greg was a bit nervous. Oh, he dealt with people of all classes in his work. But this was his first time meeting the Prime Minister and God knew who else was going to be attending. Mycroft squeezed his hand, silently assuring him that he was by his side.

“The Queen is still at Balmoral, isn’t she?” asked Greg.

“Yes, but one of the Princes might be in attendance.” Mycroft watched the city outside the car.

“Oh no pressure, then,” said Greg, leg bouncing anxiously.

Mycroft turned and kissed him solidly. “You’ll be fine,” he assured him as he pulled away.

Greg grinned at him. “If nothing else you’re great at distracting me.”

“It does appear to be one of my talents, yes.”

The car slowed and came to a stop. The driver got the door and they stepped out, quickly escorted into the building.

Greg stuck by Mycroft’s side as he was quickly introduced to a number of very important people. Mycroft went off to speak with the Prime Minister and Greg found himself with the spouse of a member of the House of Lords, sipping a drink.

“First time at one of these, yes?” she said. “Don’t worry, everybody is pretending to have a far better time than they actually are.”

Greg chuckled. “So like any other formal event, really.”

“At least the hors d'oeuvres are better.”

“I’ll give you that.” Greg took one from a passing tray.

He made some more small talk then moved on, circulating mostly among the spouses and significant others, keeping an eye on Mycroft and gradually relaxing as he had another drink.

Mycroft came over to check on him after a bit. “I hope the company is tolerable.”

“It’s fine, promise.” Greg smiled at him.

Mycroft took his arm and steered him out of the ballroom to a quieter corner of the house. He glanced around and then leaned in to kiss him gently.

Greg smiled into the kiss, resting a hand on Mycroft’s hip. “How well do you know this building?”

Mycroft raised an eyebrow. “Quite well, why?”

“Do you know somewhere we can be alone for a few minutes?” asked Greg.

“You do realize this place has heavy security in nearly every nook and cranny.”

Greg leaned into his ear and gave him a nibble. “You said nearly.”

Mycroft took a steadying breath. “Gregory this is Downing Street, not a party at a flat when you were twenty.”

“Have to be quiet, then.” Greg squeezed his hip. The idea of getting Mycroft off in some closet suddenly seemed like the best idea he’d ever had. Or at least one of the more reckless ones. But judging by the look in Mycroft’s eyes he was inclined to go along.

Mycroft bit his lip, clearly weighing his options. Suddenly he took a step forward, crowding Greg against the wall. “Can you suck me off in less than ten minutes?”

It took Greg a moment to answer as all his blood had rushed south. “Challenge accepted,” he grinned.

Mycroft took his hand and tugged him down one corridor, then another, passing through a room before ending up in what seemed to be a disused cupboard. He gave Greg’s shoulder a gentle push. 

Greg went to his knees as Mycroft undid his belt. “This is utterly ridiculous,” he said, even as he got his trousers open.

“But you’re the one who found the closet,” said Greg, licking his lips as Mycroft freed his cock.

“The clock is ticking.” Mycroft leaned over and rest a hand on the wall, cursing softly as Greg swallowed around him.

Greg closed his eyes, careful not to get Mycroft’s trousers wet as he worked. God, he was sucking off Mycroft Holmes in a cupboard at 10 Downing Street. If he wasn’t convinced his life was amazing before, this would do it.

Mycroft’s speeding breath told him he was getting off on the risk as much as Greg was. He felt Mycroft thicken on his tongue. A soft groan escaped his lips.

“Quiet,” whispered Mycroft, giving his hair a slight tug.

Greg dropped his hand, rubbing the heel against his own erection. God, but he was going to fuck Mycroft senseless when they got home.

Mycroft started thrusting his hips. Greg would have smirked if his mouth wasn’t full. Instead he teased his cock with his tongue, making Mycroft curse one more time and come almost suddenly.

Greg swallowed every drop, opening his eyes and looking up at his lover.

Mycroft tugged him to his feet and kissed him, hard, before taking a step back and tucking himself away.

“Wipe off your knees,” he murmured, straightening his tie.

Greg obeyed and let Mycroft fix his uniform, giving him a critical look before opening the cupboard door. “Another thirty minutes and we can leave. I assume you won’t combust before then?”

“No promises,” muttered Greg, following him back to the main event. Mycroft plucked two flutes of champagne from a tray as it went by and handed one to Greg before stepping away to speak with someone else.

“You’re good for him,” said an older woman by his side.

Greg turned to face her. “Thank you. He’s good for me.”

She gave him an enigmatic smile. “Still, thank you. It’s good to see him happy.” She tipped her glass to him and stepped away.

Mycroft came back over as she walked away. “If you want to leave now, we can.”

Greg grinned at him. “Not giving me a thirty minute time out?”

“No. I have plans for when we get home,” Mycroft dropped his voice to a dangerous purr that sent a shiver down Greg’s spine.

“Well, I can hardly argue with that.” Greg finished his champagne and offered his arm. Mycroft took it and they made their way out to the waiting car.

As soon as they were settled, Mycroft leaned over to Greg’s ear. “You in that uniform is damned distracting,” he growled.

“I thought you liked it,” smiled Greg.

Mycroft put his hand on Greg’s hip. “I would very much like to fuck you over the sofa.”

Greg’s mouth went dry. Mycroft really must be driven to distraction if he was already ready to go again and talking like this.

“You like that,” said Mycroft, nibbling his ear lobe.

Greg groaned softly. “Of course I do.”

“Good.” Mycroft suddenly pulled back and sat with his hands folded in his lap, looking as if nothing else was on his mind. _Bastard_.

Greg resisted the urge to adjust himself and looked out the other window, watching Mycroft in the reflection.

Finally, the car came to a stop. Greg’s heart skipped in his chest as they went up the front steps and Mycroft entered the security code. They stepped inside and Greg closed the door behind them. Mycroft turned to face him and a heartbeat passed.

Mycroft stepped forward and kissed him, hard, pinning Greg’s wrists to the door. Greg groaned and rocked his hips against Mycroft’s thigh.

“Sofa,” murmured Mycroft, pulling back after a moment and pulling Greg into the den. 

Greg barely had a chance to get his bearing before Mycroft was bending him over the sofa and getting his trousers and pants down. “God, yes, Mycroft. Please,” he groaned, trying to balance himself.

Mycroft held his hips and Greg cried out as he felt the man’s tongue on him. He swore, close already and being driven ever close with every swipe of his tongue. “Fuck me, please!”

“I do love it when you beg,” said Mycroft, getting back to his feet. 

Greg moaned as he felt slicked fingers pressing into him. “You drive me to it,” he panted, still trying to find his balance as Mycroft held him in place.

“You’re mine, Gregory.” Mycroft withdrew his fingers and pressed himself forward.

Greg groaned, trying not to come, deliciously helpless underneath Mycroft. He might have to get him riled up like this more often, though he wasn’t certain Mycroft would ever want to bring him to Downing street again. He loved the feel of him losing his rhythm as he neared his climax already, knowing that he was the one to drive Mycroft Holmes to such distraction.

Mycroft suddenly pulled out and rolled Greg over, dropping to his knees and swallowing Greg all at once. Greg shouted and came, scrambling for something to hold onto as Mycroft swallowed every drop.

When Mycroft finally pulled off, Greg looked down to see he’d come as well, mostly caught in his handkerchief, but a few stray drops had fallen onto his tux. 

“I know a discreet dry cleaner,” murmured Mycroft, tugging Greg down to kiss him. Greg sat next to him on the floor and kissed him back. 

“Good. Now lets you and I take a shower and go to bed.”

“I think perhaps that’s one of your better ideas tonights,” smiled Mycroft, kissing him again.

“Mm, I didn’t hear any complaints.”

**Author's Note:**

> This started as a discussion of Greg Lestrade in uniform.
> 
> Thanks to the usual crew for encouraging and reading over.
> 
> You can find me on tumblr and twitter at merindab


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